After seventeen years of matrimony, I found myself divorced, co-parenting, and confronting two of life’s most challenging transitions simultaneously: reentering the realm of dating and purchasing a new residence. The reasons were numerous: parenting pressures, mid-life changes, childhood traumas, and external factors. My profession as a full-time, call-taking anesthesiologist undoubtedly contributed as well. Although the grueling 24-hour shifts and 80-hour workweeks were largely behind me, their effects remained. That chapter of my life, as tough as it was, had me facing the unfamiliar landscape of crafting a new existence from scratch. Dating and searching for a home felt daunting, awkward, and isolating, yet also refreshing and thrilling. They pushed me personally to explore my desires and needs for this next chapter of solo living. In both scenarios, I discovered an unexpected partner: technology.

At first, dating apps seemed exactly as one might predict, superficial and lacking personal touch. Selected images, bios, and prompts pleading for wit. Everything felt contrived and unauthentic. However, after years of strict schedules and clinical drudgery, having the ability to scroll and date on my own terms was precisely what I required. It served as a healthy diversion that was constantly accessible on my device. Naturally, I was encouraged to meet someone in person or through activities, but I wasn’t willing to date anyone from the hospital, and my pastimes were restricted to post-call naps and mental wellness workouts. The apps were my best alternative, providing an opportunity to connect with new and diverse individuals without the pressure. Swiping became a symbol of control. I could narrow down by age, values, or distance. I could initiate a chat or remain silent. I could proceed or pause without remorse. There were no commitments, merely choices. And best of all, it allowed me the space to contemplate before diving in. What did I truly seek? Was I in search of something substantial, or merely curious? The app wasn’t concerned. It accommodated me where I was and honored my time.

Concurrently, I was selling the residence I had envisioned raising my children in and hunting for something new. It was draining, but once more, technology was my ally. Zillow and Realtor.com transformed into my virtual real estate agents. I could investigate neighborhoods, participate in virtual tours, and save listings late at night between cases or before sleep. The house I ultimately purchased? I initially discovered it online. When I listed my previous home, I could monitor interest digitally: saves, visitor data, and showing requests. It was anonymous yet enlightening. Technology provided me insights without requiring any of my time. I didn’t have to wait for a phone call or leave the operating room to know people were interested. Ultimately, my home garnered over 3,000 views and 500 saves, and undoubtedly, the new owners discovered it online as well.

Now, after managing two significant stressors, I’m contemplating another: a job change and a fresh beginning. Perhaps I’ll explore a new city, or maybe a different role, but this time I lack my great ally: technology. There’s no contemporary method for job searching in medicine; in fact, we have nearly the opposite. We receive snail mail postcards promising me to “live and work where others vacation,” email blasts with minimal details, cold-calls from recruiters who likely purchased my contact information, and endless text messages about job openings in states I would never consider living in. None of this feels respectful or effective; rather, it seems unseemly, corrupt, and entirely outside my influence.

These recruiters often receive $30,000 to $50,000 per placement. No wonder they’re relentless, utilizing every medium to capture my attention and my CV. However, here’s the thing: I don’t want to be pursued and chased. Sometimes I simply wish to browse out of curiosity, without the worry that a single click will alert a recruiter and trigger an influx of inquiries. I want to examine job opportunities with the same privacy and autonomy I had while dating or searching for a home. I desire filters for call schedules, benefits, practice models, and locations. I seek profiles that offer transparency and reviews. I want to browse discreetly on my schedule, on my phone, and without pressure.

The frameworks exist. We’ve experienced them in dating and real estate. They provide individuals with control, privacy, and empowerment. Why can’t we have that in medicine? Physicians require a career platform designed for us: one that allows us to explore without being solicited, compare offers without commitment, and engage on our own terms. It ought to be dictated by choice and respect, not governed by a recruiter’s persistence. Let us dictate the tempo. Let us choose to engage.

Rob Anderson is a practicing anesthesiologist and the physician co-founder of Marit Health, which is introducing salary transparency and a contemporary job board to the field of medicine.